The Battle of Fire and Ice
by MizzMarie729
Summary: Sansa and Jon as they struggle to come together, they cant seem to see each other as siblings despite the effort. Sam finds something through the guide of Bran in the Citadel and returns to Jon. Jon and Sansa begin to feel something for one another that they don't know how to understand or handle. Jon meeting Danny causes Sansa to worry as there is chemistry...
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: this is one of many little stories I have come up with. Disclaimer I don't own the stories. This is a new laptop so I don't have word yet so be patient with gram errors etc... I don't get paid for the time I put into it so I don't see the need to waste time perfecting it. So if you have nothing nice to say then don't say nothing at all and move on to a new story. Also my story my rules my visions... I am not GRRM I do not write like him. I will not be going off the books as I am mainly going off the show, Otherwise reviews appreciated and loved. This is about Sansa and Jon as they struggle to come together, they cant seem to see each other as siblings despite the effort. Sam finds something through the guide of Bran in the Citadel and returns to Jon. Jon and Sansa begin to feel something for one another that they don't know how to understand or handle. When Jon finally leaves to meet Danny they discover they have a strong connection, Sansa worries about what it means for her and the alliance the Lords have requested between them. Sansa struggles with the idea of intimacy and Jon struggles with figuring out what the right thing to do is. Little Finger pressures Sansa to marry Jon to be queen and then he plots to kill him. How will she handle this? So many decisions to make...

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Chapter one

 _ **Sansa Stark**_

* * *

'Don't trust anybody... Life is safer that way.' Her words rang true in my mind, never ending, always on repeat. It had almost become a ritual. No words had ever been truer in the short years that lasted a life time for me. I wondered what had happened to my handmaiden after I escaped Kings Landing, Shae was it? I heard rumors... But it doesn't matter, all that matters is what she told me. So even now, even with Jon sitting in that room discussing with his councilmen about how to keep me safe, all of us safe, I cant find it in me to trust him. I had played a wicked game, I cant deny I felt a sense of joy as I watched the Knights of The Vale ride down that hill to destroy HIM. I confess secretly that I didn't even worry about my, Jon, I don't know why I cant call him brother. He is a Stark to me, I can feel it, but he isn't Robb... and I barely treated Robb as a brother.

I was selfish, I still am. But after I wickedly enjoyed watching those hounds tare the flesh from Ramsay's face, a guilt set in, not for him, not for the Bastard Bolton boy who embodied evil... no, no, but for Jon. I should have told him. He could sense I was still indifferent, he could sense that even though I genuinely was excited to see him again: I used him. He was to honorable and kind to say It to my face, I could see it in his eyes when we met up on the wall of Winterfell where he reminded me we had so many enemies and he kissed my forehead. I didn't expect to feel guilty for the way I treated him, but I think he could see it behind my eyes also... he could see my scars. Its been a month and Jon has grown so restless, at first he isolated me, he was angry I can understand this, but he finally started opening up to me.

The things he tells me chills me to my bones, as I know he wishes he could take away my pain. Jon really is a good person, I sometimes wonder how he has survived this long with the kind of honor and heart he has. The one thing you can say about Jon, is he never puts himself first. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here in this room now reading this stupid book that speaks false pretty words of Knights and their shinning armors gleaming in the sun as the valiantly show up in time to rescue the distressed damsel. No one can protect anyone. I wasn't wrong, no one protected me, not even my own father... he couldn't even protect himself. I have struggled with reminding myself that Jon isn't my father, Jon isn't Joffrey or Cersei, or even Little Finger. He definitely isn't Ramsay. Jon is good. Jon is... Jon. There is really no one like him.

(A knock at the door...)

"Who is it?" I asked, jarred abruptly from my thoughts. My deep thoughts. Jon. I seemed to have these thoughts about him a lot in the last couple weeks. He has stirred something inside me, could it be hope? Hope that maybe, just maybe, I found someone who WOULD protect me? He did rush head first into a battle he knew he most likely couldn't win to get me back my home. I suppose I will forever owe him, I certainly owe him more gratitude.

"Sansa?" his voice is deep, but it breaks nervously as he clears his throat.

"Jon?" I don't know why I sounded surprised. He always visited me for afternoon tea to discuss what issues are happening and to get my opinion, I suppose it was so I wouldn't turn on him and be sneaky. Ouch. I deserve it though. If only he knew why I do the things I do... that smell. My face lights up with a smile.

"I remember you were fond of these," his lips curl into a side ways smirk as he shows me the lemon cake he had prepared for me. Our stores were short in supplies, something we were hastily working on due to the battles between Stannis and Ramsay, and then their recent battle... Theon sacking the place and killing innocent farmers with his insane sister didn't help. My tummy grumbles.

"Fond is hardly the word," I cant help but bite my lip as he reaches the plate out towards me, my eyes wide and not leaving the beautiful peace I mean piece of heaven of course. Where are my damn manners, Sansa, you need to play nice, "Thank you, Jon. This is kind."

"Can I sit?" Jon asked, I nod as I pick a piece of it off and plop it into my mouth, my eyes closing as I savor it.

"You want some?" I asked, realizing how in-lady like it was to ask with a mouth full of food.

"No thanks, I love lemon cake too, but that is for you," he said folding his hands together and leaning forward.

"Is everything fine?" I can see something in his eye. His eyes are always sad, there are some rare moments at night when we are curled on the floor in front of the fire of one of our chambers when we are talking and he tells me about something happy... sometimes his eyes change when they are watching me. I try not to notice, but then again, maybe he is just happy to have his family back. He smells so good, so close... mint, musk, and leather. Similar to father.

"Of course," he lied, I can tell. He knows I am hesitant to believe in those white creatures he claims is coming for us. But how can I call him a liar when he has claimed to see and fight it himself. I suppose I just don't want to be scared anymore. I've known nothing but fear the last few years of my life. I want to be brave, like Arya. Where are you Arya? "just some news. Something that requires my attention soon."

"Attention? Winterfell?" I ask skeptical.

"Not here, no. I need to go to Dagon stone," Jon's eyes are heavy on mine, the dull light from the noon over cast reflecting off his dark eyes. For a moment he looked like a God, he is handsome, that is for sure.

"That's a ways away," I am not sure if I am asking or stating this, but I drop my eyes.

"I am to meet the Dragon Queen," Jon gave me a weak smile, if he was trying to encourage me he was failing. Great, so he is going to meet some beautiful queen who can ride dragons and leave me... us, Winterfell, of course. I try to shake this from my head and he looks confused by it, I hate when he tilts his had that way, like he is reading my thoughts, "I don't want to go. I wanted to wait until Arya returned home, I thought she would be hear by now after hearing the rumors that she avenged mother and Robb with the Frey's. Something must have gotten in her way, and I want to find her. Her and Bran. But she grows impatient in my delays to meet, she wants me to bend the knee..."

"Now wait..." but he interjects cutting me off.

"Sansa, I wasn't finished," he growled, his eye brows lowering in agitation. I had a bad habit of talking over him, much like I use to, and much like my mother probably did. I should work on that, even if he wasn't King in the North, he still deserves more respect then that, "I wont be bending no knee. The North is ours."

I like the way he said ours. Surely he means the Stark family. God's Sansa, what's wrong with you? He must have messed me up something awful, I am now as twisted and dark as that scum.

"What if I asked you to stay?" I don't know why I let that slip out, he looked as surprised as I was by saying it. Lord I hope he cant see the flush coming to my cheeks. Sansa you are a damn Lady of the North, we don't blush.

"I didn't know you'd want me to," Jon said softly, flexing his leather gloved hands awkwardly. I sigh as I set my plate down and take his hand in mine.

"Of course I care," I answer the question I know he really meant to ask, "we are in this together."

"We are," his smile is so contagious, as small a smile as it is. Mine is weak too as I feel my mouth tremble from my nerves. I have become like a young child around someone who both mesmerizes and terrifies them, "but with Bran and Arya gone, you are the last remaining Stark. A Stark must always remain in Winterfell, but this also has to be done by the King in the North..."

"Careful, before your head gets to big for that crown of yours," I try withhold my smile, but it twitches out dangerously. His smile though. Gods, why is it distracting. He is suppose to be my brother isn't he? I shouldn't be thinking about his bloody smile.

"I think it would look better on your head," he smiled but his eye dipped away. I wonder what he was thinking.

"Wouldn't that be a pretty sight?" I tease as I try to sit tall and mimic a crown.

"Aye, it would..." I freeze, and so does he. He fidgets before he gets up.

"I think it looks better on you," I blurt it out like a kid who just cant wait for their septa to choose them to answer the question asked. He smiles at me, but its a half smile, a grateful smile: I think he doesn't believe me... that I am trying to diffuse the awkwardness, "I'm full. How about a walk?"

Jon Nods, and I take his arm to stroll the halls.

* * *

 _ **Jon**_

* * *

Its cold out, but nothing we aren't use to. The coats and furs Sansa make me are well made, and I cant help but treasure each one. She is different. She isn't the same girl she use to be. She was like her mother, a spitting image. I hated it. I hated her because of it. I didn't want to, I knew she was suppose to be my half-sister, but I never saw her as anything but the girl who treated me like a servant. She treated Theon better. Funny how things have changed. When I saw her walk through the gates of Castle Black, I cant lie and say I didn't think she was beautiful. A wounded bird. No, a wounded wolf. For a moment I had thought it was Ygritte, my heart sank but it soared when I realized that I wasn't alone in the world anymore.

I knew by the way she hugged me I wasn't the bastard boy in the corner that was the stain on her fathers perfect reputation and the reason for her mothers humiliation. I could tell she had changed, we had changed. But I still didn't see a sister. I didn't see Arya... or even Robb. I cant deny that in the time I was in Winterfell I never felt like I was apart of a family, its hard to see your siblings as siblings when your not apart of their family. Robb was more like a best friend, and Arya... she was the closest to a sibling. But not enough that I didn't seek for a real family, a brotherhood, the nights watch: Big Mistake. We shared some sweet moments, moments I never thought I'd have again with any of them. Sansa had apologized for her behavior, and she seemed sincere. But I struggle with how much is real, how much I can trust her. She didn't tell me about the Knights of the Vale. She is vague about what Ramsay did to her, enough to know I hate him, and I want to kill him over and over again. So I can assume asking Little Finger, that fancy fucking prick, was hard for her, especially for her pride... but she did it either to save me, or to beat Ramsay. Can it be both? I want it to be both.

I can see in her eyes all the pain she has suffered. I don't know how she survived it. But I finally see my purpose, why I was given a second chance. I must protect her. Watching her now as she kneels into the powder white snow to scoop it into a pile before her, making some sort of sculpture... her hair glows like fire in this light against the white back drop. She looks like her mother, but more beautiful... how can I find the image before me so beautiful? The image of a woman who made my life hell? Who made me an outcast? There is something childlike about Sansa, and though her innocence was stolen, right here in the snow I can see the beauty still within that Ramsay and all the other bastards didn't tarnish. She hides her scars so well. She is looking at me now, and I am pierced by blue eyes. Something inside of me stirring and I am forced to look away. It isn't right. I crouch down beside her and watch as she finished making a wolf. She smiles at me again, looking for approval. I enjoy her smiles, she didn't smile much the first couple weeks here. I don't blame her though, how could I?

"Hey!" I heard a familiar voice as I look over my shoulder to see familiar face wobbling through the snow. Could it be?

"Samwell Tarley?" I ask as I stand to my feet. Sansa looks up at me as I drop my hand to help her to her feet, she takes it, but she still looks at me with questions in her eyes.

"Jon, pal!" Sam's face is red from a mixture of exhaustion from the effort, and the cold air nipping at his flesh. He is warm as he takes me in a deep embrace, our laughs echoing over the snow... my eyes glance to Sansa who is smiling with a devious look in her eyes. I wonder what she is thinking.

* * *

 _ **Sansa**_

* * *

Good gracious this large man is a riot, he huffs with his laughter, and I find it amusing. He has with him a woman and a baby, which surprises me, but I entertain them as is expected, asking her questions and answering hers. We are sitting at a long dark table in the dinning room, it is quiet here, and the only light is that of the candles. Food had been brought out to us to munch on as we caught up with his friend. But my eyes wont stop darting to Jon and this portly young man he calls Sam. His tale was rather interesting from stealing his fathers Valerian steel sword, to his trip to the citadel and the weeks he has spent there researching. He even talks of an old magic he came across, and reminds Jon of how he always wanted to be a wizard. I laugh at this. But they aren't paying attention to me. Gilly is a sweet girl, I like holding her little boy Sam, it makes me grateful though that I did not have one with Ramsay. He didn't know but I had Moonshade tea snuck to me as often as possible by those still loyal to the Stark name, and mainly Theon when he wasn't a coward.

I catch Jon's eye, but he isn't smiling, he seems transfixed on something. This makes me self conscious about what I am wearing and how I am presented, but then he flashes me his Jon Snow half smile and I cant help but smile back before looking back down to little Sam. Was that why he was looking at me? Cause I held little Sam? Did he see me as so incapable of mingling with the common folk that I couldn't even hold someone's child. I cant lie, I use to see them as smelly life sucking creatures, only meant to make heirs, but this baby is sweet... and I cant help but wonder what Jon's baby would look like. Would he or she have his dashing curls, or that pouty lipped smile, that structure jawline... Good heavens, get yourself together woman! You shouldn't think those kind of impure thoughts about a sibling. Even if he doesn't feel like a sibling, even if no matter how hard I try I just cant love him or care for him like a sibling. I love him and I care for him, but not in the way I do Bran and Arya, and I begin to wonder what kind of love it is. Aye, Ramsay messed you up for good Sansa. You need to fix your head. Dang it Jon is looking at me again. Why cant I look away, why does the way he take a bite of his bred seem to stir something inside me.

"So what news from the Citadel then, Sam. Why do you leave your position to become a Maester to come here. It cant be just to see little old me?" Jon teased his friend. This sparks my interest... Gilly has gone quiet too as she takes her child back as it begins to fuss.

"Aye, there is a lot of news Jon, or should I say King Jon," Sam chuckled a tease before clearing his throat to continue, "at first I was just studying mindin' me own business, When a week later ravens started appearing everywhere. Where I slept, where I ate, where I read... they called to me. So finally I decided to give into my mad thoughts and walk towards them, where they merged into ONE HUGE raven with three eyes! Jon, THREE. EYES. THREEEE..."

"Yes, Sam, I very well get this," Jon prodded on. I kept on trying to picture this three eyed raven.

"He lead me to a secret door in the citadel where I unearthed a conspiracy Jon! The Maesters locked away some of the worlds most precious materials. From magic, to white walkers, to Valerian Steel and how to make it and dragon glass. But I also found some more interesting papers, more like artifacts that were concealed for some unknown reason. But that wasn't it, the three eyed raven spoke to me Jon. IT SPOKE..."

"SAM! ON with the story," Jon's patience was growing thin, even with his friend. I could tell he looked worried, and I wanted to take him into my arms to comfort him. I clear my throat at the thought getting everyone's unwanted attention, so I wave them off.

"He told me that he was your brother Bran, and that he was now the new three eyed raven stuck behind the wall. He needs you to get him," Sam grew very serious. I could see Jon wasn't believing Sam, but for some reason it stirred something inside of me. Bran was alive, this was amazing, weird, but then again so was the idea of white walkers.

"He also told me to give you these," Sam pushed some paper towards Jon, who began to flip through them, for some reason stopping on one of them that caught his attention. He lifted it closer to his face, and I shift in my chair to try and grow a few feet... wanting to see, "he said that its the marriage certificate between Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen..."

"What does this have to do with me?" Jon asked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

"Bran, the raven, told me that they were your birth parents. You are not the son of Eddard Stark and some tavern wench in the south, you were born a prince, Jon," Sam was more serious then he had ever been, then he was back to his bubbly overly joyed self he had shown himself to be in the small time since he arrived, "who would have thought, my best friend born a prince! The true heir to Iron throne! To the King!"

I cant keep my mouth open, unable to control my expression, giving away my every though. So Jon wasn't my brother after all. He was only my cousin... all those years he suffered as a bastard, when really he was a secret Prince. My mind was just having a hard time wrapping around this. I tried to say excuse me but it came out muddled and unrecognizable as I slowly stand up. Jon stands, his face full of concern as he watches me, but my eyes don't meet his. I just leave the room. Why am I so selfish? Am I really about to turn this into about me? But I just cant help it. Jon is a Targaryen. All this time I grew up with a hidden Targaryen? But why?


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: thank you to the several comments I received, they are appreciated. I do have several Jonsa stories your welcome to check out. But right now, this is the one I will focus on. I do need to update the others at least bring them to a finish. This is from a few theories I have read and agreed with and have elaborated on… what I would like to see come. Like Jon betraying Danny because Sansa is in trouble, and he chooses her. Much more as well… so this is what I have gotten so far, sorry for the slow response. Make sure to review if you read… the more good reviews I get, the more motivation I have to pop up a chapter sooner.

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Chapter 2

 ** _Sansa_**

* * *

I don't know how I fell asleep, but the emotions of the night seemed to wipe me out. I am not sure what wakes me, but my eyes stir to get clear vision in the pale moons light of the room. There is a figure on my bed, large, and silent. I sit up quickly, a feeling in the pit of my stomach awakening a fear I hadn't forgotten but hoped to never have again.

"Sansa?" he asked me quietly. But I sit up still, quiet, eyes wide open as I stare at Jon in front of me. He doesn't smile, he doesn't talk, he just turns to look back out my window. I can't blame him, I have one of the best views in Winterfell. I don't know why I cross my arms, but I do, almost like creating a barrier.

"Jon?" I know its him, but like instinct his name forms at my mouth. A part of me sees the wounded bastard boy I mocked and teased with the other highborn, the one who I hated because my high-born acquaintances mocked me for having a bastard brother. I reminded them he wasn't my brother, and I closed him out mentally and emotionally. He had just been the bastard boy my father accidentally brought home. He was wounded. I felt a strange urge to take him into my arms and comfort him, but I can't move my body.

"Aye," his voice is low and unsure. He has me worried, "I didn't mean to wake you…"

"Then why are you here?" I don't realize until after that my tone sounds like its usual harsh and unwelcoming tone. I wish I hadn't sounded so uncaring.

"I don't know," his voice changes, I can hear the sting of my tone in his own voice. So, to try and make up for my wicked tongue, I scoot forward watching as he cocks his head to the side in confusion as he watches me. I place my hand on his arm, and I grip it firmly.

"I'm glad you are here," I hope it doesn't sound fake, I try my hardest to rid myself of my highborn tone. I am no better than him, I never was. He is King of the North now, but more importantly if what his friend said was true then he was a Targaryen Prince.

"Are you?" his eyes search mine and I can't help but get lost in them. What is he searching for?

"What do you mean?"

"I am not your brother, I am not even really a Stark anymore," Jon's voice breaks and he looks back at the window.

"You are a Stark to me," I say firmly, but he is silent. I sigh, but his gaze is still on the moon and for a moment I find myself longing for his gaze again, "Jon…"

"Hmmm?" he hums the question and he looks back over his shoulder at me, but his mind is still preoccupied deep in thought.

"You, Jon, ARE a Stark," I say it fiercer then intended, but clearly the passion in my tone has caught his attention, his eyes searching mine again. Almost like he is searching for something inside of me, "you may possibly be a Targaryen, but you still belong to the North. The North runs in your veins like a wolf in the woods. Just look at Ghost, he wouldn't love you the way he does if he couldn't sense your Northern blood. You are still the son of a Northerner."

"They married, Sansa, that means she was no longer a Northerner, but she was a Targaryen," his hand reaches to grip my wrist as his face comes closer to mine. I can smell the ale on his breathe now, the brandy is strong.

"You can't think like that," I don't know what to say, so I try to comfort him the best I can.

"That's why you left, isn't it?" his eyes narrow as he pulls away, releasing my wrist and looking away once more.

"What do you mean?" I can't begin to think of what is running through his mind.

"You realized you didn't have to suffer my presence anymore. I am not your brother, I am not the Bastard of Ned Stark, and I don't have any claim to Winterfell," Jon's voice didn't waiver as he confessed his dark thoughts, "you are right. I don't know who I am or where I belong anymore. The Northerners won't want the Targaryen's back in rule, and they will see my Targaryen bloodline as a weakness. They bent the knee to Jon Snow son of Ned Stark, not to Jaehaerys Targaryen."

"First, I left because of something I was feeling, something I wish to not say aloud. It had nothing to do with not wanting you around. You may not have claim on Winterfell, but you don't need it. Why does anyone need to know who you really are? Do you want the Iron throne, Jon?" I speak fast and heated, his face shows me he is confused by my chaos of words.

"I do not want the Iron throne, I didn't even want to be King Of the North, I simply took it so I had the power to get the help I need to defeat the white walkers," Jon spoke out loud to himself, but then he looked to me, "what feelings were they?"

"Jon, please," I beg, not wanting to share my intimate thoughts.

"Please," his voice sounds lost, like he hoped to find guidance in whatever I was going to say. I look in his eyes, feeling my chest rise and fall quickly as it filled with panic. Do I tell him the truth, do I keep it to myself, what is the right thing to do? The brave thing, the Jon Snow thing, would be to grant his request and ease his conscious.

"At that moment, I felt like I lost something, okay," I say it so soft and fast I am not sure he can hear me, but even in the darkness I can see his dark orbs questioning my own, a fire burning through me as he stares, "with Rickon, Robb, my mother and father dead, with Bran and Arya missing… you were all I had left. I can't say I felt like I was losing a brother, but I felt like I was losing… my Jon. Without me being your half-sister, without Bran and Arya being your siblings, what was to keep you here? What would keep you fighting for us?"

" _Your_ Jon?" he asks with a smirk playing that the corner of his mouth. I shove him lightly, playfully, as he teases me with his eyes and smiles.

"I'm sorry if my emotions are too female for your taste, your majesty," I snap back playfully, my hands falling into my lap.

"Not at all," his laugher has gone away and his face serious once more, but his eyes are still on mine, and I swear I can see a fire in the pupils of his dark eyes, "I'd fight for you no matter if I was the bastard of Ned Stark, the son of the Targaryen prince, or some merchant's bastard. I'd never leave your side if you didn't want me to."

"But why stay to protect just us, when you can be the King of all of Westeros?" I can feel a sting in my eye, "why stay to protect the castle that was your prison? When you should have worn a crown instead of slept outside like a dog?"

"Because you're here," he says it softly, but his eyes spoke it intimately. I feel something stir in the pit of my stomach, something I felt as a child, something I shouldn't be feeling now for Jon. Perhaps he sees the awkwardness in me as I shuffle, trying to remove the feeling from within. He turns to look away again, sad, like someone who was lost. I move to my knees and slide over to him, resting my rear on my calves as I place a hand on his arm, and rest my chin on his shoulder. He seemed to freeze and stop breathing at the feeling of my touch.

"Jon," I say his name softly, the skin of his neck responding to my breath as I spoke his name. He reached up to place his hand on mine, but seconds later he moved my hand and pulled it so it was under his arms and over his chest, he grasped my other hand doing the same to the other side. He can hear my surprise, but I can't see his response so I clasp my hands together around his chest, squeezing, as I lay my head down on the back of his neck, just feeling the movement of his breathing… it was intoxicating.

* * *

 ** _Jon_**

* * *

I can feel her chest and torso against my back, the warmth radiating off her is comforting. I know she isn't one for closeness and intimacy, she shudders slightly any time I've tried to embrace her or take her hand. I can't blame her for fearing such small gestures, but it makes me wonder more and more of what _he_ did to her. Her arms wrapped around me, the gentle gesture of surrender as she lays pressed firmly against my back is… intoxicating. It's comforting. For the first time in a long time, I truly feel as if I am not alone.

"Sansa?" I ask, she just softly hmmmm's at me in response, we had been sitting relaxed like this for quite some time and I fear she may have dozed off, "are you awake?"

"I am," she mumbles softly, I can tell she hasn't fully succumbed to sleep, but she is relaxed enough to be close to it. This strangely delights me, causes a stir I remember to well, and must push away. She may not be my sister now… but the rest of the world thinks she is. I even have my own doubts, it's hard to believe what Sam has told me, a part of me know it's true, and another part of me needs proof.

"Sam told me I'd find some proof down in the crypts of Winterfell, something to help me come to terms with this," my hands are still clasped firmly over hers. She stirs behind me, rubbing her face into my back, and I wonder if she has grown uncomfortable. I release my hands from hers, releasing her arms. She is still leaning against my back though; the sound of her breath is slow and relaxed even though it stirs the hairs on my neck. I turn slightly to look at her and she rolls herself forward so that her head is now on my chest. I naturally shift my body over so she can lay more closely and comfortably against my chest, my arm holding against her side to keep her from falling and across my lap. Her beautifully blue eyes are closed and I can't help but find myself observing her, carving her relaxed beautiful face into my memory to save for a rainy day. My hand without command clasps gently a strand of her fire red hair that is sprawled around her, like lava pouring into my lap. Another movement from my hand has me stroking her jaw gently, tracing it. She stirs at this, a small smile on her lips as she gently and sleepily rubs her face into my chest. I had to fight the devious thoughts playing into my head, "would you go with me?"

"Anywhere," she mutters softly, "I'd go anywhere with you."

"Aye, same here," I say as I pick her up into my arms and lift her, lifting myself as well so I can lay her properly in her bed. She is tired, and I fear my self-control if I were to stay any longer. After I lay her down, I observe her for a little while longer, watching her drift peacefully into her sleep. I lay a gentle kiss on her forehead before I head for her door. _I will always keep you safe, I will always protect you._ I close the door behind me and head for my own chambers.

* * *

 ** _Sansa_**

* * *

It was almost like a dream, what had happened the night before. I never been so close to a man like that, I wouldn't call what Ramsay did to me being close. I have worked hard to become a better woman, a better person, despite Little Finger and his constant pressuring. Jon inspired that in me. Peytr thankfully hadn't been around for a little while, claiming he had business to attend to. I had sent Brianne after him to keep an eye, her ravens are usually short and vague but so far, he seems to be up to nothing bad. I had requested her to come home, I would need her hear with Jon leaving.

Jon is in the hall eating breakfast when I finally arrive. I smile at him as I take my normal seat, and pick at my food feeling more self-conscious than ever before eating in front of him. When I look at him now, I can't lie and say I see someone different, but now I can take in all his beauty and appreciate it without total guilt. One should feel guilty if they revel in the handsomeness of their brother, but he is not my brother… or so we have been told. Either way I never saw him as my brother to begin with. We ate quietly for a while until Jon finally spoke.

"Are you still interested in touring the crypts with me?" Jon said, clearing his throat, "I have some important details I wish to discuss."

"Of course," I smiled, trying to be polite. He was quick to rise to his feet, when he was next to me, he extended his hand. We were arm in arm as we left the castle of Winterfell heading to the Crypt.

"Sam told me some interesting things," Jon finally spoke, looking over to me. I couldn't help but meet his gaze, there was a strange fire and connection between our eyes.

"And?" I encourage on, eager to hear what his funny friend Samwell Tarley had told him of his visit to the Citadel.

"Apparently, they had been hiding some of the world's greatest treasures there along with the records of my birth and the marriage between Lyanna and Rhaegar. Apparently, they have a map that guarantees safe passage through the island of Valyria which leads to not only great treasure but the blue prints and the items needed to create more Valyrian steel. As well, there is a whole valley of just dragon glass. I mean to go here after meeting with the Dragon queen, seeing as she is supposedly my aunt, I am hoping we can make this journey together."

"That sounds dangerous, Jon," I can't help it at this point, my voice is dripping concern.

"It will be, yes, as there are many terrible tales and rumors surrounding that forsaken island," Jon stops to look at me, taking my hand in his, "but I must do what must be done. For Winterfell. For all mankind. For you."

"Jon," I try to argue back but he cuts me off by taking my arm and pulling me along.

"We are here," he says, staring at the crypt. I hadn't visited here since the last time with Little Finger. I can see he is hesitant to open the door, so I push it open for him and walk through. I can hear his footsteps echoing behind me as we descent into the darkness, "I have had many dreams trying to send me down here, I had hoped I would never find out why."

"Knowledge is power, Jon," I can hear Peytr's voice in my head as I say this, but deep down I am trying my best to encourage him while feeding my own curiosity, "the more power you have the more we can accomplish."

"Aye," he looks at me but I fear he has mistaken what I have said. I don't want to use any of this, I don't want anything but to be home, in Winterfell, safe: With the remainder of my family

"It will have the power to set you free, Jon," I say as I turn to him, and grab his hand. I can feel his large leather gloved hand firmly wrap around my petite leather gloved hand. Strangely I can feel the heat of him through his glove, almost as strongly as the heat from his eyes gazing into mine right now. It causes a tremble of fear… and excitement. I am the first to break our long gaze, his hand still in mine, I walk beside him, as I was trained from birth to do… walk beside my King, beside the one I care about.

We walk for a while, passing the stones of our ancestors, and I see him stop in front of my aunt Lyanna's… his mother's statue. I don't say anything, I mean, what can I say. All his life he had wondered about his mother, to find out she was dead, and buried so close to him all his life. I can't imagine the anger that would consume one, but Jon is special, if he is angry he doesn't show it.

"Samwell said I had to go further, past the rubble and distraction that would keep us children out," Jon spoke as if in a daze as he stared down into the long black tunnel. I see why he wanted me along with him, I step before him raising my torch to guide the way, to help him go where he needed to. We walked for what seemed like a long time, through cobwebs, and many sharp turns until we got to the broken tunnel, the one father had forbidden us to ever travel down.

He never let us play in the crypt but warned us of the dangers and the repercussions of traveling past this hall. Jon is still standing there so I start trying to remove a few large stones and rubble that blocked our path. He was quick to act when he saw me struggling, I wished now I could be strong like Arya, to push these aside without assistance. I need to take up some sort of defense practice because my needle work won't help us much should war come to Winterfell again. We finally made it past the barriers and walked into an open room that had clearly been abandoned.

"Jon?" I ask as I see him walk up to something. I am quick behind him, my hands wrapping around his arms as if to steady him should he fall. He looks at me for a second before glancing back at the statue and tomb before him. So I read out loud what it says, "Jon Snow, Son of Lyanna House Stark and Rhaegar House Targaryen…"

In the hand of the statue rested a small metal box. I grasp it and hand it to him, apart of me selfishly wanted to rip it open and see what it said, but the part of me that was growing up and becoming a better person, knew it was up to Jon to decide when that box should be opened.


End file.
